A Letter
by Experimental Madness
Summary: I wrote you a letter, please please tell me you'll read it!
1. Written on the Second of April

If anyone ever knew that I was writing you a letter…they would seriously question my hold on sanity. What the hell, this is just stupid anyway I mean you aren't even real….are you? I mean, so many people actually believe in you, or at least want to. I want to, so if all of these people believe…then does that make you…real? God, I hope so.

How should I start this off…? Hi, I'm the deranged girl who dressed up like you for Halloween two years straight when I was three. Now, you're going to think I'm truly crazy, as I got older…read about you…understood more. I realized that, well; we share a few traits…

I'd like to take a brief pause here…if I could hear you right now you'd probably be laughing at me. Don't deny it, I don't take offense, I'd be laughing if I ever got this note too.

Insanity…isn't that a wonderful sounding word? Insanity…I hate it, I love it, and I'm not quite sure yet if I have it…but I know nothing about me is at all sane. Trust me on this one, all right? If I do have it then….I wouldn't change it for the world no matter how much it hurt sometimes…

Insomnia, well, again, not quite sure if I have that either considering I do sleep. Then again I'm writing this letter at approximately 12:07 in the morning so maybe that's not such a good example. Wait? Have I gone totally off topic….again? Curse my babbling you've probably already put this letter aside. I hope not, just read the rest…please.

I'm a writer you know, I mainly do original workings of my own creation, but I do write something else…yes I've written (or attempted) a story…about you. Should I give you it…would you like to read it? I tried to give you a happy ending…you deserve one. You should have already had one.

I can't read music. Nope, notes look like a jumbled mess to me when placed on a sheet of paper, but I do like toying with lyrics. I've tried my hand at song writing many times. Let me tell you…there not good, but I like doing it so I do.

I can't believe it…second time in this letter and I've gone off topic again! You have my permission to crumple up this letter and throw it away the next time I start to babble!

What I want to say is….thank you. Yeah, thank you. Without you, I probably would never have become a writer…or anything. And I'd be a lot worse off in my…well will describe it under insanity for now I promise I'll tell you later…in another note…but that's only between you and me.

God, I wish I could talk to you…even if it was just for a few minutes. I have so much I want to ask! So many things that I know…think you would understand. Whatever I write in my life you have my permission to read, you don't have to read it I'm just telling you, you can if you want to.

Thank God for you, honestly, I know there are probably others who would say the same thing, I don't care if you are real or not and if this letter is never seen or read, writing it makes me feel better, writing it makes me feel as if _someone_ was listening to me and not judging me for it. Thank God for you, Erik.

Marcy


	2. Written on the Thrid of April

It's a vast oblivious expansion of the mind, imagination; isn't it? I mean, you could be sleeping peacefully when suddenly all manner of terrible things happen to you and you have absolutely no control over it, but you see, you do. Everything is concocted by you. You always have control of that tiny portion of your brain which controls the imagination. Or at least…that's my theory.

I hope I'm not bothering you…well considering the fact that I haven't the slightest clue of what you are doing right now you really can't blame me for my ignorance. Anyway that's not what I'm here to discuss, actually I have a question: What do you do when you have writer's block…well that is if you can ever get writer's block. Point in fact is, I have a bad case of it, I always get it…creative high and then creative low, some of the lows are mild, but this time it's really bad. There's absolutely no amount of creativity left in me, I'm dried up, no ideas, none!

It's awful when you can't think clearly like that anymore, it's like being trapped, surrounded by four walls, and having no way of escaping. Have you ever felt that? Well, chances are my ideas will start flowing again in about…a few weeks. That's the way with me, you see. This brings me back to my first point in this letter, most people have control over their minds…I, fortunately, do not. It would be a shame to tie creativity up, in any person, even if it emerges in sick and twisted forms, cruel to some…but art to others.

I hope no one ever finds this letter…my mother's been known to sifting through my articles. She thinks she's entitled to read everything I create just because she's my mother and she gave birth to me and blah, blah, blah.

I know exactly what she would say if she found this, and no, I'm actually not exaggerating. "Marcy, explain the meaning of this? You aren't making any sense," here she would roll her eyes at me and sigh for affect (she thinks she could have been a great actress…I try not to laugh, but the more she talks about that the harder it becomes) "Can't you write anything solid for once? Have one idea stay consistent with the rest?" Well…no I can't, honestly I've tried!

What would she know anyway? In two letters I've already revealed more of my self to you then I have any other human being. I don't even know you! I've never seen you, or met you, and yet I can talk to you about anything. Don't worry…I won't bore you to death and tell you what I did every day, that's not what these letters are about.

Anyway, I have to go, can you believe I'm actually told how long I can write, and I have to ask permission to? I know! Crazy isn't it? I hope you get this letter…

Sincerely,

Marcy


	3. Written on the Fourth of April

You're actually getting my letters….never did I think…I mean…imagine…oh, I can't think straight, I mean it was always possible that you could read them…but I never thought you would respond! I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, to hell with it!

I need to say this…I have wanted to say this for a long, long time. You're not a freak, you are not a monster…the rest of the world is just stupid and ignorant! I mean it, I really, really do.

I don't know what I'm thinking here, but you're like a big brother to me, I don't me to scare you or offend you, but if I could actually talk to you face to face, one on one I would be able to really be myself, fully and completely. I think that's part of the reason why I write about you, I want you to be happy, and yes everyone does deserve that right, don't ever think otherwise, I mean that.

It's getting late…or early, whatever you want to call it, and I have school tomorrow. But I'm not tired, well not tired enough that I want to stop writing.

Everyone needs someone to believe in, whether or not that belief crosses the boundary between fantasy and reality is not for us to decide. No one is ever totally alone in that sense. So if people call me crazy for this, then let them, I don't care, it's my choice to believe what I want, no one can stop me or change my mind.

My mind's wandering; even as I write this my eyes keep falling on this blank sheet of paper on my desk, I think subconsciously I hope to find some sort of inspiration there, but it's a blank sheet! What could it possibly offer? Everything, blankness is anything; it leaves room for doors, windows, people, places, ideas, words, music. You get it? If you do then you're finally beginning to understand a bit of how my mind works. One blank sheet of paper, a whole story starts on one blank sheet of paper, much like how the whole world started on one black, blank canvas.

There are no accidents in life, you're going to kill me for this, but hey, it's true and I'm not afraid of speaking my mind around you. There may not be destinies, but there are no accidents. I'm still trying to figure this idea out, again with the blank sheet of paper on my desk. If I fold it once…then it doesn't look like the other blank sheets of paper next to it, fold it again, and it looks even more different….misshapen in a strange way, wrong! When I unfold the paper all the way, I'm left with four boxes, while a regular paper only has one long rectangle. The folded paper has more room for four different ideas, four different sequences, four different chances at anything and everything. So…given the circumstances, the folded paper may have turned out differently then the other pieces of paper, but that doesn't make it any less important or useful, nor does it make it look any less like a sheet of paper. You know where I'm going with this, re read it again and tell me if it makes any sense…it will, it does.

Oh, there is still so much left unsaid, and I must wait until tomorrow to write to you about it! Oh well…until then…

You Faithful Friend,

Marcy


	4. Written in the evening on the Fourth of ...

Why did I choose you as a mentor? That is actually a good question, and I suppose the best questions don't exactly have accurate answers do they? Well, I didn't exactly decide anything…it just sort of happened. Learning more about you, I gained more respect, and in gaining more respect I realized that we view the world in a similar fashion.

It's true; people are scared of what they do not understand. Unfortunately, it's getting worse as time wears on. Even though more people can connect with more people, so can fear. The more people learn the more we wish we never did, until eventual some manufactured hate towards our friends and family is formed…the human madness, we're the only animals on earth that kill for no reason. It's a fact, when you think about. Lions kill because they need to survive, for territory, or food; it is a liable and sane reason.

Humans, on the other hand, can kill on a whim. Even people, who believe in living in peace, have their moments. Holding a knife, I remember holding a knife one day and actually imagining what it would be like if I just stabbed it through the nearest person.

Naturally, not everyone thinks like that, but they would, and they do if they are given an opportunity.

The next thing I'm going to write is not easy to understand, and not many people really know about it. I hate humans, I hate people…and sometimes I don't know why, but subconsciously I do. They've destroyed everything, and when everything isn't enough they choose to kill their own flesh and blood. No race deserves to live if they are going to torment their own kind! It's not right! It's not right! Nothing they can say or do, can ever make it be right!

What gave us the right to become "Superior" over other animals? Over the world? Nothing, when you honestly think about what catastrophic disaster would ever make us believe that we were different then the others. We didn't know the difference once, we were just like other animals, but now most people don't even know that they are animals. They look at an evolutionary chart or table and see all of the sub families in the Animal Kingdome and they go, am I really a part of that? I never knew….that's sickening. How can you not know?

One of my friends described the human race as a virus, polluting, destroying, and killing everything that it touches. Nothing survives for very long. Of course, every virus has a cure, does it not? One day something will happen that will wipe the virus out, and I'm not talking about 'the end of the world' we're already there. When that cure happens it will be the best day's work anyone's ever done.

I'm sorry, I shouldn't have written all of that…but I think…or I thought that you might understand some of it.

To answer your question…if you haven't already noticed I'm not the wisest person ever, why should I make a wise decision on who my friends are? Or who my mentors are…

Marcy


	5. Written on the Sixth of April

You were far from scaring me; in fact it was quite interesting. I am sorry it took me a little longer to write this letter, I was in the middle of completing a research paper. My head is still spinning from all of that information as it is.

I've become quite good at hiding what I'm really thinking, my own mother can't even read me anymore. I learned to do that quickly, considering that I don't want to be put back into therapy for my ideas. Oh! I never told you about that did I? Or the fact that because I have been writing for so long I have developed Multiple Personality Disorder and Schizophrenia. Funny thing is…I refuse treatment; I don't want to think like everyone else, even if I can't stand some of the ideas…

I need to tell you something, today, I almost…tried drugs…a stimulant, called Speed, I'm not sure if you've heard of it. This close to actually taking it, but I didn't, I ended up throwing it away…and I still don't know why; I think I should have taken it…

This hasn't been one of my better days, I suppose I should be used to them by now, but they get worse each time. I don't want to be here anymore, I've snuck out of my house several times and reached the corner…and turn around! I've never gone past that corner, the world has been right at my fingertips and I can't cross it! It's not a matter of not wanting to, it's a matter of…well would you look at that…I don't know. Eventually my parents will walk into my room and find me gone; it's inevitable I know this. Where'll go to I don't know, there aren't many quiet places left in this world…forests are vanishing in the blink of an eye and the oceans are filled with oil and clutter. I can't stand the city, but the city is taking over the whole world…slowly but surely.

Let's face it, no one is interested in hearing my ideas, my own family is scared of them! And no one cares anymore…we'll kill this world and commit our own suicide in the process.

We wear similar masks, you and I. yours is visible, mine less so. You can see my face, true, but no one can ever really be sure what I'm feeling, I've always liked that. I don't like the feeling that everyone can see my expressions clearly on my face. It's funny though, my family thinks I choose to have these thoughts, but I wasn't. I am not responsible for the ideas that flow into my brain or how it handles them, which for the most part isn't very well.

I'm sorry…I don't think I want to talk about this anymore…even with you. I can't, I'm sorry….

Marcy


	6. Written on the Seventh of April

Thirteen, that's how many "voices" I hear, thirteen voices that through the years that I have acquired them, have become my closest friends in the world. You want them by name? Crystal, Emily, Darkclaw, Dagger, Katana, Myst, Rain, Emma, Talina, Skylark, Brook, Moonglow, and Haily. Perhaps without them I would have done a lot of crazy, stupid things.

And what's wrong with silly childish stories? Yours was quite amusing…and trust me we all have a few…no matter how insane.

Madness that's actually sanity! That's it! In about one sentence you've managed to understand who I am. I am crazy, but in a world that's far crazier than I'll ever hope to be I've become sane. The irony in that is ridiculous.

Cold? Almost, the world is almost cold. There are still people, good, decent people in this world. Who wish to change it, but just don't know how to speak up. Those people will stop the world from become a frozen ball of hate.

I do agree though, we are hopelessly lost, almost to the point of it being impossible for the world to ever go back to normal. I know, that must be confusing, I just contradicted myself, but I didn't. Being lost and cold are to different things, lost is a state of being, being cold is a state of mind and heart and there are far too many people who are lost and cold…not a very good combination.

Today, for instance, I think I went looking for trouble. There is a girl who is always hanging around the area I talk with my friends. She is annoying and troublesome and today she hit breaking point. She started to insult and hurt one of my friends…I think I may have snapped…I can be one of two things; a good friend, or your worst enemy, I have no in between line. Even if a fight is over and apologies are made I will still hate you (not you in particular… you know what I mean)

The line isn't only for friendships; it applies for family ties as well. My brother for instance, stupid, self centered prick that he is. If I was ever given the chance I could kill him without even a second thought. No mourning, no remorse, no guilt…nothing. Blood is thicker than water? I'd like to meet the man who thought of that and kill him as well.

I'm flattered that you feel you can talk so openly with me, that's not a quality I usually have…making people feel safe. A friend? Do you consider me your friend? Well, Erik I have one thing to say to that…I am your friend.

Marcy


	7. Written on the evening of the Seventh of...

I have seen your face countless times, over and over again. Whether interpreted in pictures by peoples drawings, or in my own mind. I know that sounded crazy, yes in my own mind. I would not flinch at your face, believe me or not, but _I would never flinch at the sight of you_.

True, I have never seen you personally, but why would I do such a thing? You are a person, like me, whether or not we like the fact we're human, we are and I shall give you the respect as such. Now naturally if you just came out of nowhere in the dark I'd probably jump, then again if a teddy bear came out of nowhere in the dark I'd probably be terrified as well, that's just a natural reaction…wait, this has nothing to do with anything. There I go again with my babbling.

Now this thing about romantic notions, well for a while I did have a…crush on you. Don't throw this letter away just yet! The reason I did was because of…well, everything! Your insanity, beliefs…haven't I already told you this before? Every time you said something it sounded…so _real_. Now, I'm not making sense, I mean, I understood for the most part. It had nothing to do with how you looked. Again, I probably wouldn't tackle you to the floor and hug you so hard your eyes popped out of your head like a few fan girls might desire to do…the idea of that makes me laugh even. Why don't I have a crush on you anymore? Simple, because I understand more, I guess I respect you to much…wow that sounded really bad, but it's the truth.

Getting back to other such topics…maybe Raoul did inform a few people about the happenings at the Opera. Never thought I'd say a good thing about Raoul, but thank God he did, otherwise no one would know…and I wouldn't be writing this letter right now.

I have a question, where _are_ you right now? I mean, how are you writing these letters? That must sound incredibly stupid, but I'm just curious.

I suppose I might see you when I die; no I'm not contemplating suicide! I mean when I die…naturally. Of course that depends on what I do in my life and where I'm going to go. Hell doesn't sound too bad…probably tons of insane people just like me there, I might have more in common with devils than I do with angels.

Odd, when I was little I was terrified of the dark, I thrived in the light, but now…I've grown accustomed to it. I realize now that it was misjudged, Darkness isn't there to terrify people, nor is it there to burden us. It comforts us, when we sleep the dark covers us in safe black nighttime warmth. It hides us when we need to be alone, and it makes us think, and that is what scares people, people don't want to be left alone to think, because dark thoughts surface when no one is around to hear them, horrible ideas, so naturally we can't blame ourselves for such monstrous ideas, no, we have to always blame it on something else, so the Darkness was our target.

So, yes I can accept you for the "monster" that you are, because you were the only person to accept me for who I was. I wouldn't flinch at your face, and you don't turn away from my madness.

Marcy


	8. Written on the Eleventh of April

A bee came into my house just a few moments ago. It was stuck on the ledge by my window. I heard the buzzing, that's how I knew it came in. I'm terrified of bees, have been ever since I was a little girl. So naturally, I wasn't to keen on letting it stay inside.

It tried to get out, it kept buzzing into the clear window, because it could see the outside there. It was trying to get out, it tried over and over again, but it couldn't, it didn't understand that. The window was too high up for me to even reach the insect, but I could still see it struggling.

I think if it had come down, I would have killed it, over fear. I didn't, just so you know. I couldn't even touch it. I was sitting on the floor looking up at the window, watching it buzz. I started thinking…It was stuck inside, desperate to get out; to escape.

As crazy as this may sound I started to feel actually sympathy for the insect. It didn't understand why it had become stuck inside when all it wanted to do was to get out. It hadn't done anything wrong, only lived the way it was made to live.

I was thinking how stupid I was to be afraid of something so small and unaware. Did you know that win bees sting you they die soon afterward? They'd rather die then see the rest of their kind die as well. Stupidity to some, loyalty to others…amazing creatures really, even if they do scare me.

Something so scary to some people actually brings with it a lot of good. Without bees, there wouldn't be any flowers. They help cultivate our planet and the only thanks they get is a brutally swapping from its people. I think we think that insects can't feel that's what makes them so easy to kill.

I think that I'll always be afraid of bees, I can't help that, but I can understand when to keep it in check.

When I came to this little conclusion, or realization the buzzing stopped…and it didn't come back. I walked upstairs so I could see the ledge where the bee was. I couldn't see it anymore…it died.

I actually felt bad for it; because I think I could see its eagerness to try to escape, thinking that by somehow ramming into the window pane again and again that it might magically escape. It must have thought, it was going to be that easy.

By calling the insect an 'it' I don't mean it to be an insult…I just have absolutely no idea what gender 'it' was. I think 'it' might have been a she, because the females in a bee hive are the workers. Yeah, I think that's it….

Marcy


	9. Written on the Twelve of April

I understand…but yet I will still write this letter in hopes that you do get it eventually.

You won't die, I know you want to but you _can't_ die, not now. I'm sorry, Erik but I will cry, because friends cry when their friends get hurt. I wouldn't be able to help it even if I tried. I'm sorry.

I suppose, though it is rather odd…considering where I'm from…Erik I have no idea how these letters are getting to you because I'm from the year 2005. Yeah, it's no joke.

If you should die (which you won't) I hope this letter is the last thing you read. You will meet me…eventually, I hope, I wish. Whence I die…kind of gives me something to look forward to, doesn't make the prospect of death quite so scary anymore.

I'm sorry this letter is so short, but I think I have said everything I have needed to for now…Erik if you should die, you didn't die unloved. Please I hope you get this letter! I need you to know, I need you to see. Your friend has loved you ever since she was alittle girl, I don't mean romantically, I mean…damn it I don't know what I mean, I love you because you are the only family I've got. Please don't leave me here alone…

Marcy


	10. Written on the Fifteenth of April

Are you all right? You're absolutely sure your fine? Not that I could do anything about it even if I tried. I will admit though, it was a comfort to see your letter. I never realized how important these little conversations really were to me.

To answer your question; yes, I suppose for a while I did believe in a God. Now I'm not so sure, perhaps there is one…a divine being of some sorts, but he or she or…whatever force it may be, lost faith in us a long while ago. At least this is my opinion, we were his little 'experiment' well guess what? We went wrong, and you can't fix an experiment that goes wrong. So he left us to our own devices, and this is the chaos we have created because of it.

Still all in all though, I do believe that something must happen after we leave this life. An after life…reincarnation, although the latter of those two is extremely far fetch and is in all likely hood, not possible. Who knows? We never shall and we could debate this matter over and over again and we won't get anywhere with it. I suppose then, when we die…we'll know. That's all I can say about that subject and still make complete sense.

Where I live, my yard faces two hills; I used to be able to see all manner of animals in my yard and on the hillside. About six months back, however, houses were built on those hills and the animals stopped coming. I can still see a few of them sometimes, but their numbers are so low now there are hardly any left. Anyway enough of that, I'm in no mood to dwell on these sad facts.

The sunsets here are amazing! I really don't know how to describe them; the sky burns bright red and it looks like the clouds burst into flames. It's the best inspiration…

I should stop ranting right about now; I want to get to work on this new storyline, it's been plaguing my mind for months now, screaming to get out. I shouldn't really deny it any longer. I shall be awaiting your next letter, my friend!

Marcy


	11. Written on the Sixteenth of April

Rainbow at the end of a storm, eh? I can't tell you how many times I've heard that expression. Not to say that you don't make a valid point, which you do. Sometimes it's just a little harder for some of us to actually find this rainbow. I suppose it's the journey that makes it worth the while.

I actually have a question, and as stupid and utterly senseless as this might sound I only ask it out of my own curiosity. How do you see me? I mean, what exactly do you think I look like? Odd question, yes I know…I feel stupid asking it, but again it was just something running ramped around my brain.

I like your view on this 'God' business, I've never heard it been explained to me like that before. Expanding on this idea then, Erik that would mean there are no mistakes in life…ever. No one canbe a mistake no can make a mistake. Yes, you can occasionally mess up, but eventually don't all the pieces fit back together again? Perhaps there's a reason for what we do and perhaps there is not. Maybe there is a reason we were meant to think the way we do, or maybe we're just out of our ever loving minds…which we probably are anyway.

It sounds like you've found a peaceful place, Erik, reminds me of this one spot that my family and I go to sometimes. It's a lake surrounded by acres of woodland, I always bring my notebook with me when I go. I never fail to come up with the best ideas up there. It's small and quiet, hardly _any_ people up there…and I could go on about this all day.

I should be going now; I'm watching my little brother while my parents are out. He's downstairs right now, waiting for me. I hope to hear from you soon!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	12. Written on the Seventeenth of April

That's quite a complicated question for me to answer, but answer it I will. My views on you have not changed. I see you as someone who sees more than any person could possibly ever see. Light and Dark have absolutely no meaning to you. You can simply ask one question and receive so many different answers that to some they would lose their sanity in an instant.

But, how I see you…despite everything anyone has and ever will tell me about you. I see a man with so many wonderful and new ideas…and yet to share them. Most importantly though, I see a friend, a friend I think I've been looking for, for a long time now. How would anyone else ever be able to understand half of the things we see, or think for that matter?

Surprisingly enough, my mother thinks your evil…and unable to fully interact with other humans. I wish I could tell her how incredibly wrong she is! And another thing…why in the world would one ever wish to interact with humans? That's for another debate…it was through my mother that I even know who you are. So I guess good will come out of bad after all…if that made any sense.

You're not a bad person…no one should ever even think that you are. More or less…it's completely the opposite. It's _others_ who are bad, we only learn from what the world teaches us. Sometimes it's not all good.

So what you've taught me then? Well, I don't listen to the rest of the world anymore; most of what they say is completely useless anyway. I can see things in a whole new perspective I suppose. I think I understand…a little bit better than I did before.

Music…that was the word I was looking for. Anything light, anything good in this world will come out of that wonderful word. You can express everything and _anything_ just by creating it. A multitude of different shades, realities…insanities.

I don't care what you hide behind that mask, however 'horrible' the world might think that you are. You're still a person; and you're just as lost, just as confused sometimes as I am…or anybody for that matter.

I think, Erik, our insanity is that we want to see something good come out of this world…whether it means destroying it or uniting it. We want to see something that can never be, yet it is something so possible I can almost touch it.

I was contemplating this last night…I don't think were exactly hell bound just yet. I don't want to think that someone would create a mind like yours and condemn you to a horrible life. I really despise this saying, but I can hate it and yet still agree with it. 'Good things come to those who wait.' It's true, wait long enough and good things will happen…now if only they would specify just how long one should wait….

All ready I have found a few friends who can grasp some of this insanity. Although I have not told them all, I don't think they really could fully understand it. This is between you and me alone.

I await your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	13. Written on the Nineteenth of April

Well now, that is a bit interesting isn't it? Tell Coreen that no matter how well she may think or assume; we are anything but lovers. Tell her that even I will vouch for you on this one, we are only good friends.

Have I ever told you how old I am? I can't remember…well no matter; I am currently fourteen soon to be fifteen in about three months. I could care less about romance, considering the fact that no one my age even _knows_ what the word really means.

I should start at the beginning with this explanation. I had one best friend for about four years her name is Jillian. Something happened this year though that completely changed my view on her.

Around five months or so ago there was a boy that was rather interested in me. We would talk often, or as often as we could and Jillian was planning a day that we could all get together with our friends. When we finally did manage to get together nothing went as planned. Everything started out fine, laughing, playing, and talking. Everything normal; but later on, this boy that I was talking about he kept wanting to hold my hand…hold me. Which was fine, it was the natural wasn't it, we were together.

The holding turned to touching, touching in places that are just not at all right without a woman's consent. I kept pushing his hands away from those areas, he didn't take the hint, and he kept going right back to what he was doing.

I always thought that if something ever happened to me like that I would fight back and tell the boy out straight that I didn't like it, but it is a whole different matter when it actually happened to me. I didn't understand what was initially going on at first, but I knew I didn't like it, but I thought I couldn't stop it! I thought it would eventually go away! It didn't…he kept putting his hands in my shirt, in my pants until I just ran. That's right I ran away.

Jillian came to find me to see what was wrong. What did she do after I told her? Nothing, she said I needed to stop acting like the world was falling down and just go with it. Apparently, she said, that's how all boys show affection.

I haven't really spoken to her since then, and I have no desire to so don't convince me to do so! Anyway, needless to say I don't see that boy either…although he keeps trying to see me. I just learned that love may not be for me right now. Oh it's all right in stories and idle dreams, but in reality? It almost makes me sick thinking about it in reality, someone holding your hand looking at you…but no one could ever do that with me and really see who I was. I would always have something to hide.

Oh and guess what? My friends have read some of your letters as well and now _they're_ saying that we should be lovers. All day today they haven't stopped pestering me about it. I've been trying to set them straight…I don't think its working. Maybe they will listen if you answer. As always I remain your friend,

Marcy


	14. Written on the the Twentieth of April

I've been having an interesting day. This idea that I think might make a really good story has been running ramped in my head for months now and I only now just started to write it out. I've tried to explain it, but it's hard without actually seeing it, perhaps when I have more written I'll show you, but until then you must settle for my poorly explained summary.

Basically I wanted to write about the darker side of human behavior; so I had to compile a list of tragic events or one major one in this case. There are two main characters in my story they are sisters, identical sisters. One already has a few problems, this incorporates another main character who isn't real he is only an image that she created.

Her sister dies in an accident of some sort, (yes, I still have yet to figure out how she really dies.) This sends the other sibling into a state of major insanity, creating unreal images, saying nonsensical things, and so on and so forth.

That probably made no sense whatsoever, but I told you it was complicated, as the story progress I will fill in other plots and twists. There is no happy ending to this story; funny, I already know exactly how my story will end and why, it's the getting there that's the hard part.

Ah well, I'm afraid I won't be able to write back to you for a few days or so as I am going away with my family to visit some relatives. I do hope to hear from you soon and I will try to write as soon as I will possibly be allowed to do so.

Oh yes, now I remember what I was going to say! Apparently there is this girl, Tanya is her name, and well she has taken the liberty of harassing one of my friends. How many times have my friends and I told her to stop? Several, she doesn't seem to get it; she thinks it's one big joke and that we are also her friends. Wrong, we don't like her; she's rude, inconsiderate, and a fake. And she doesn't like me; she's made that clear on several occasions.

So, now I have the entertainment I've been craving. I love idiots who think that they can make me "bow" before them in fear. Yes, I am most defiantly out of my mind, I love bullies and brats. Why? Because they think they can have everything in life, and then they try their tricks on me and it always backfires on them.

Now I'm not saying I get into fights with them, they could probably crush me with one hand I'm that small, but if you can't fight them outsmart them! Anyway back to Tanya, she came over to me and my friends and I could see one of them was not comfortable with the situation so I told her to go away. Well, she then resorted to language and after a few retorts from me she back off. _That_ was fun. I love seeing them march off in defeat.

I think I'm babbling again even _I_ have no idea what I'm saying! Well, I shall be awaiting your next letter and as I said before I will try to get a response in as soon as possible.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	15. Written on the TwentySecond of April

Ok, what's wrong? You sound like something is troubling you; I do have a grasp on what you are trying to say, although it is not so clear that I can make an exact and correct answer. Yes, I suppose I have felt like that, whether or not I can exactly remember an incident I am not so sure, but I think everyone experiences that feeling at least once in a lifetime. Like, when you have absolutely no inspiration at all, and yet you continue to write like you were overflowing with new ideas? That's happened to me before, but then the work that I produced out of that was so terrible that even I couldn't look it over a second time.

Are you trying to imply that you feel that way right now? I'm not sure what to say to that, besides saying that things will get better, ah, even writing that it even sounds stupid and inlogical. Oh well, I hope that you are all right.

You're probably surprised to hear from me so soon, well I'm writing this letter as fast as I can, my family expects me downstairs to be with them, apparently they don't want me cooped up in my room for the entire stay.

This is beside the point now; if something were wrong you would tell me right? I know I don't make much sense most of the time, but I am good at solving some problems, at least that's what some of my friends tell me.

Well, I sincerely hope you are all right. As always I await your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	16. Written on the TwentyFourth of April

You really think it is her ghost? No, I do believe you it isn't a matter of that, I'm just trying to convince myself. I don't think she is haunting you; maybe she is trying to tell you of something. Question is I just can't think of what that something might be.

I'm back home now, dealing with a few bits of turmoil myself. Why? Because I feel oddly…really, really happy. I haven't felt like this since…ever. Ok, I'll get to the point with this. A friend of mine…that I have known for a long time now, I realize…I think…I might…like him, I know he doesn't like me like that….Damn it, this is so utterly confusing!

I don't want to tell him, because I like our friendship and I don't want to ruin it by telling him, but just _feeling_ like this is…oh, what's the word I'm looking for? Amazing? I can't think entirely straight at the moment so forgive me if I babble like some rabid animal. I just don't know what to do with myself at times like these…possibly because I've never experienced this before.

My friends want me to tell him, and I just want to remain…you know, friends, at least that way I can have…_some _of him. Wait…that made no sense. Curse this confusing and irritating emotion, why me and why now? No, no, not even going to get into it!

Maybe if I ignore it will go away…yes? I don't want to tell him but every time I talk with him or see him I'm screaming it in my head. Yes, I'll ignore it, that's what I'll do; eventually these foolish emotions go away in time, right? God, I hope so.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	17. Written on the TwentyFifth of April

Well…I've either had the most productive day or the worst day ever. Either way, I defiantly got something done in the chaos of events that happened. I should explain myself; report cards came today. In other words Doom's Day arrived right on schedule. My grades in school are atrocious, and my Mother always manages to find cruel and unusual ways to punish me for them. This time I'm banned from my writing. Yes, no stories, poems, songs…oh yes one more things, I can't write anymore letters to you.

Goes to show how much I listen to my Mother, do I care? No, I'll keep writing, _and_ I'll keep corresponding with you. As for my grades, would you believe that for once they are not my fault? My teachers forgot to record my last projects! I'll be talking to them tomorrow on the matter and hopefully that will bring my grades back to their former status.

I'm not an idiot in school, actually I usually get semi-top marks on my assignments and exams, it's just lately; things have been getting slack around my work habits. I'll fix that.

As for my foolish 'love dilemma' I am choosing not to tell him. I figure I cherish my friendship with him more than I would risk to losing it to an emotion so fool-hardy.

Oh yes, and as for the Tanya girl I mentioned a little while back, things keep getting more interesting with her. Two times today she challenged me to a fight, _twice_! The next time she does I'll accept it; god knows I could use the fun.

Ok, I think I have used up my allotted amount of ranting for the day. I await your next letter Erik! As always I remain your friend.

Marcy


	18. Written on the TwentySixth of April

You won't get me into trouble, don't worry; If I get caught it's of my own accord. I still don't quite get what my crime is though? How exactly can I be punished for talking to my friend? No matter, I don't plan on getting caught at all.

I like the sound of that program, to bad there isn't anything remotely like that where I live. And you right about grades, I don't like half of the things we do at school…partially because none of the projects make any sense.

So, tell me; what chaos have you run into lately? I hope it's not half as bad as mine. My Mother has decided to double my punishment, now I'm not allowed to read even. No chance am I obeying that stupid rule; books are my only escape route if people take them from me you will have one crazy Marcy on your hands, for lack of a better word.

I'm sorry for making this letter so awfully short, but I'm being dragged off to my Tutor where I can enjoy re-learning everything I already know. I suppose it's not all that bad, reviewing projects couldn't hurt and I never know if I might learn something new. Now I just sound contrary and ridiculous. I hope to hear from you soon!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	19. Written on the evening of the TwentySixt...

Coreen is only looking out for you; it's almost funny in a way.

I wish I could be there too, Erik, don't think for a moment that I've never thought about what it must be like there. From the way you talk about it I can almost picture it in my mind. It's not enough though, I want to _be_ there; it sounds so wonderful.

There has to be a way that we can meet. Wishing, dreaming, thinking; that won't do anything. There just _has_ to be a way, no matter how far fetched. Why do I bring this up? Well, Erik, do you believe in time paradoxes? Or a rift in time and space? I don't know what got me on that track, but I guess some people like dreaming of the impossible, when they feel there is no other solution at hand.

I only mentioned that utterly useless idea because next year I am going to Paris. I'm not sure when next year, all I know is, is that I am going. I wonder what would happen if both of us happened to be in the same place…only different times. Stupid isn't it? But then again, when you want something so bad impossible doesn't sound so impossible anymore.

Hell, I don't even know if you are _in_ Paris or anywhere near that city anymore. Are you? Well, if we are still writing these letters to each other by next year maybe we should look into the impossible. I have a feeling, Erik, that we will still be writing these letters by then.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	20. Written on the TwentySeventh of April

No, I suppose you are right. It was only an idea that I had on a spur of the moment anyway.

I'm all alone now; my Mother and brother are out for about two hours. It's nice, quiet and peaceful for once. Maybe now I can finally get to work on my story without any interruptions.

Then again, I should probably go get my dog. Oh! I've never told you that I have a dog. Well, her name is Scout; she is still relatively only a puppy and she is a cocker spaniel. She won't listen to a word any of my family says, she seems to refuse training entirely. I like watching my brother try to make her obey simple commands like, "Sit," or "stay." She gives him this sarcastic look, (or I think it looks sarcastic anyway) and just walks off.

I don't think she likes my brother. Whenever he is in the room she tends to ignore him or leave entirely. So she is really my dog.

My Mom has a conference with my teacher tomorrow, I can only cross my fingers and pray that my teacher doesn't have anything horrible to tell her. I find that unlikely though, ah, whatever, it's not like she can punish me any better than she has already tried (but failed miserably) to do.

I should be going now; I shall be waiting for your reply, Erik! As always I remain…

Your Friend,

Marcy


	21. Written on the TwentyEighteth of April

Mad? Mad? Why would I be mad? Never mind; you saw her again? I knew it, I really think there is something she needs to tell you…now if only I could figure out what the something was…

Oh yes, and what do you mean by 'odd look'? Was it a bad odd look or a good odd look? That sounded ridiculous I know, but I'm only asking!

Maybe she is trying to show you something…trying to help youfind someplace you should be. No I'm not talking about the church in particular, maybe somewhere close by it. That's just my logic anyway.

I hope my ranting made a bit of sense. I hope you aren't as confused as I am as well. I must be going, my Mother will be home soon and if she catches me writing this…well you know the rest.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	22. Written on the TwentyNineth of April

Maybe she wanted you to go after her. I'm just thinking…out loud. I'm not the best expert on ghost and paranormal experiences, but no harm in taking a few guesses is there?

I can understand your confusion completely, because I am starting to feel its effects as well. That may also be because it is getting late, but oh well.

Why she was in the garden is a good question….and one I have absolutely no answer for, not even a good guess; when I have a thought I'll let you know, but as of now, I've got nothing.

I should be going now; I wish you all the best in solving this little mystery. I will try to help you as much as I can!

Your now confused Friend,

Marcy


	23. Written on the Thirtieth of April

Nobody is going to get any madder than we already are. So calm down right now; may be she is appearing to you…and maybe she is not….maybe she is trying to tell you something, as in do not look to the past. Maybe she wants you to be happy…

Erik, I don't think she pitied you at all. I think she was just a confused girl who was caught between two decisions. Pity is a nonsense word and one that should be done away with. When I say 'she didn't pity you' I do not mean that in an offensive way. In fact I mean quite the opposite. Yes, as idiotic as I sound I truly think she is not showing up to torment you.

So, stop looking at what this whole scenario might mean and start focusing on what you can do about it now. If she shows up again, look at the place that she was; I can almost guarantee the answers may be found in the places she has been turning up in.

I know I have no right to say anything on this matter, and I may not always make much sense in it, but I will always speak my mind. And right now I'm telling you exactly what I think.

I know this letter sounded a bit harsh, it was not my intention. But I'm your friend, and I am only trying to help you. So please stop worrying, questions will always have answers, Erik. The answer is out there, we just need to find it. After all what needs to happen will happen or it won't happen at all!

You Friend,

Marcy


	24. Written on the Second of May

I wish I could accept the way of things. But then I suppose I wouldn't have anything to talk about at all. Its human nature to always want to fix things or to wonder at how their lives would be like if certain things never occurred.

I do wonder…sometimes, but it would be great; for a total of ten minutes. I don't want to see things the way everyone else does, that scares me above all things. Insanity's like a drug. It hooks you and lures you into a world that only you can see, with thoughts and visions only can ever be a part of. This of course is the upside and to all upsides there is usually a downside.

It hurts, because when the boundary line between fantasy and reality start to become hazy to you in your mind your physical body begins to feel the effect. It's like being to two places at once…or wanting to be. Or when your mind begins to take the shape of another animal…and yet your body remains the same.

Those come and go on a whim, but the ideas, the ideas never leave. I suppose that's why I wouldn't change it. I like what I am, even if no one else does, or even if no one else can see who I am.

This has also got me thinking…if I wasn't crazy, then I wouldn't be writing you these letters right now. So maybe…things really do work out for a reason.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	25. Written on the Third of May

Maybe you are right…about the insanity thing, but most people I have spoken to don't know half the things I'm saying. So does that mean I'm the crazy one…or are they?

How long have weknown each other? Just a few days over a month? I feel like we've been talking to each other for our entire lives. I didn't know something so small would become so…important to me. In fact…I never even thought for a moment that you would even find these letters, let alone respond to them. I don't think I can tell you how glad I am that you did…

You are no monster, (and you didn't need me to tell you this!) A monster is something that appears out of a bad dream…with no emotion or knowledge of the world whatsoever. But you, my friend, are the exact opposite. If you can say to me that it's the world that is insane then I can tell to you it's the world who is the monster…and not you.

I'm happy you were born the way you were Erik, otherwise I might just have gone fully and raving mad. But that's beside the point, the point is; I would never have known this kind of a friendship, I know you wish you could have been someone else, but I can say without hesitation, I like you just the way you are; right now.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	26. Written on the Fourth of May

Sadly…no my tutor is not helping me, well I mean she does try, but I guess I just don't want the help. I'm being dragged there in a few hours by the way, it's getting rather annoying.

I wouldn't worry about Christine, if she appears to you then she does, if she doesn't, then…that's just it, she doesn't. This isn't an area where you can change what will happen; the paranormal world is a different one from ours.

I'm so damn tired of being told what the limit is for me at school, and the work that I do. I'm sorry I don't like school very much, but my mother doesn't seem to realize that she is not helping the situation. She tried to take away my books again, and my notebooks, and this morning I found her going through my bag, reading papers, notes, and anything else she could find. I just stood on the balcony, watching; when she was done she figured out that I had seen her.

I can stand those punishments…partially because I can always take my books and writings back; but she's suspended my voice lessons, and I can't take those back. So I don't see how that helps anyone, those are totally different from my school work, not that it matters anyway; she hardly planned time for me to go to those lessons in the first place.

Ok, I've vented, other than that, life is fine, chaotic, but fine. I shall be awaiting your next letter, Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	27. Written on the Fifth of May

No, no way, not a chance. I would never, actually I have done it before, but she always thought I was kidding around and joking with her, and she'd always say to me 'Oh God Marcy, I hope you really don't think that way!" Then she'd just laugh, and I'd laugh, just so she wouldn't press the matter further.

My mother is not one you open up to, if your opinions are not up to her code of standards, there freaky and not right. She doesn't even agree with me writing to you in the first place; yes I did tell her that piece of information.

And believe me; this paranoia has nothing to do with 'distance.' She doesn't realize, and hasn't realized for a long time now, how far out of touch with reality her daughter has gotten.

Is it naturally for a child to have no affection towards their parents and family whatsoever? Because the more I think about this subject the more I realize that I really don't care about my mother, or my brother; my father is a different matter, I do respect him and when he tells me to do something I do it; perhaps because he is less concerned with how I think…

I don't feel bad that I don't love my mother, and brother. I just feel neutral whenever I have to be around them. My mother always says that she knows me better than anyone, well…truth is, she doesn't know who I am at all…and, I think, she never will; not if I can help it. The surprising thing about this is…you actually know me better than _anyone_…probably more than anyone else ever will.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	28. Written on the Sixth of May

How did she know you were even there? Or perhaps, she didn't and it was merely some type of a coincidence? I highly doubt that, but you never know. You think she was there for a reason?

You aren't in any trouble are you? Know one _else_ knows of your whereabouts? I hope you are all right. You will tell me if anything odd begins to happen? I'm not sure what help I will be able to offer, but maybe I can help…with…something at least.

Please be safe!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	29. Written on the Ninth of May

I'm afraid I do not see your point; you think you are seeing ghosts now? Erik, that's quite odd, not the seeing of ghosts, but the fact that there would appear to be an odd population of spirits around that place.

Now it's probably me that's not making any sense. Well congratulations friend, I'm now well and truly confused. Either that or I have to many thoughts crammed together in my head at the moment and I either want to scream or….or…when I think of what that or might be I'll let you know.

Fantastic, now I sound like an idiot, well we already knew that anyway! Take care, Erik! I will be awaiting your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	30. Written on the Eleventh of May

Odd thoughts? Well, I won't bother you about them now, but you have defiantly aroused my curiosity. Not much has happened here, besides me planning classes for next year; I need to try out for the choir class tomorrow, damn my mom for canceling my voice lessons. I hope I'll do ok.

Remember that boy I was talking about a while ago? Turns out he was still trying to save a relationship he had with this other girl that I know. So, I guess I was right, it wasn't worth it. No, I didn't tell him, I told you I wouldn't. Besides, I value our trust and friendship more, yes I know I've said that already.

Well, other than that I have a science project due in about….a six days. But, I am the Queen of all Procrastinators….I'll start probably start it at two in the morning, the night before the project due…knowing me.

I should get going; I shall be awaiting your next letter, Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	31. Written on the Twelve of May

A pity party….no offense, but that made me laugh; oh and as to you making sense, don't worry you must have gotten through my idiotic brain because…I got in! Yes, I tried out and the teacher signed the permission form. So, I'm happy to say, I'm now a part of the choir.

So now I get to bother you a bit; what is going on over there, with you? I know you mentioned something in a previous letter, and if you don't talk to me about it I will keep annoying you until you do. And, plus, if you do end up telling me, (what ever it might be) You know I can always try and help! Well, I have to be going now; I hope to hear from you soon!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	32. Written on the Thirteenth of May

So….you believe that you might be a ghost yourself then? Or maybe not yet a ghost….now I've just confused myself. If you are a ghost then…you have seem too fallen into a nicer area than most ghosts tend to find themselves in.

Besides, even if you are a ghost I'm still going to write these letters; I'm still your friend, living or dead.

I shouldn't really assume anything just yet though, and you shouldn't either. Maybe the place is simply a ghost hot spot; there are places like that in the world. Well, tell me if anything else happens over there.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	33. Written on the Fifteenth of May

Although, what is confusing to me is how a ghost, (consider you even _are_ a ghost) is seeing other ghosts. What about Coreen and everyone else in that place? Are they all dead?

I've heard of things like this before, people who end up some secluded place and don't realize that they are dead until they see the supposed 'ghosts' of one who they to be dead.

It is rather confusing and I can feel a headache coming on just trying to sort through that kind of thought.

But, if you are a ghost that usually means that you have some sort of unfinished business here on Earth, Oh great; now I've gone and gotten myself even more entangled with this idea.

Well anyway, it was just a thought, no matter how stupid it initially sounded. I hope you find your answers Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	34. Written on the afteroon of the Fifteenth...

I really hate to say this, or even suggest it for that matter, but did you ever think that if you are a ghost….it's me what's holding you back? You obviously want to keep writing to me, is that it?

I don't want to be the one that might be suspending your happiness. Even if that is the case, it might not be, but you never know…right?

But, I don't want to stop speaking to you; I know that's incredibly selfish of me, but I told you I would always tell the truth. And honestly, I don't know what I would do if I could not longer write to you again. That's a scary thought, and I don't even want to think about it again.

I don't know what this is…I don't even know why I wrote to you in the first place! I was just confused….and I still am confused. Through whatever words or ideas I've spoken to you about this past month, in reality I'm none of those things…I'm just a stupid, scared, little girl who doesn't want to lose her best friend. Is that so wrong? Or am I just babbling again?

I really wish I could see you. I feel so god damn useless only writing to you! It's so damn frustrating sometimes! If you are a ghost; when I die I'll be a ghost to, if your not a ghost and if you die you go to heaven, I'll go there, if you die and go to hell, damn it Erik, I'll go there. If there is a fate worse than hell (god forbid) and you go there, I'm going to follow you whether you like or not. If there was a chance that by some odd way, that I could save your life by a chain of events set off by me, damn it I would die for you in a heartbeat. No second thought would be needed.

Oh god, I hope you aren't laughing at me right now, because I am so dead serious about everything I said. I just don't know how to prove it enough.

Marcy


	35. Written on the Sixteenth of May

Did you just say you did not think you had a soul? Out of everything I have ever seen you write to me _that_ has _got_ to be the most _ridiculous_ think I've seen yet. Of course you have a soul! All living things have souls! If you didn't have a soul then you would not have written to me in the first place and I wouldn't have written to _you_ in the first place. So end of conversation, you have a soul.

Now, on to this guardian thing….so let me get this straight, or as straight I shall be able to get it. Are you suggesting that you are my guardian angel…ghost…spirit….friend…I can't think of anymore examples so I'm going to shut up before I confuse you.

Now we are going to get involved in a whole other debate with no exact end in sight. But if you are meant to help me…then help me with this; what happens when I get older? Will I find that I will forget to write to you? Will I just break the connection without ever saying goodbye? I don't know what made me say that, but it just occurred to me right now.

Well….that's not going to happen then. Look at me, answering my own question like the idiot I am. I suppose I'm just thinking out loud anyway. There are still lots of things I'm still figuring out, things that scare me and confuse me. Things that I don't think you will be able to help me on.

Don't worry, Erik, I'm not going anywhere, Oh and one more thing, you never needed saving, you are fine to begin with.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	36. Written on the Seventeenth of May

More important things to do? And did my eyes deceive me or did I actually see the words. You'll forget me? Never, never, never, never going to happen. Even if I should stop writing, I will _never_ forget you. Friends don't forget friends, so see? I'll always write to you, for as long as you will allow me to do so.

And yes, I agree with you. Let's stop worrying about 'what if' and the future. There is a reason it is called the future isn't it? As in, it is not meant to be discussed in the _present_.

The future only hurts to think about…starts off like a good dream, but then. Everything that can go wrong usually does. It's a nightmare to imagine, that's why we shouldn't, and yet we do…I know that doesn't make much sense, but it does.

It's nearly spring over here; everything is so warm and bright. It's a nice break from the cold months of winter. With spring comes the usually annoyance though, the one thing that never bothered me until now. It seems that everyone has paired off…everywhere I go, every hall way I walk down. I see couples; holding hands, hugging one another before running off to class, or kissing….Every time I see them I feel like throwing one of my textbooks at them. Not because I hate it….well yes, I guess I do hate it. I just don't want to see it.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	37. Written on the Eighteenth of May

Would you think I was being an absolute child if I said yes I am jealous? Well….I just said it so I might as well back myself up on this. Yes I am; is that such a crime to be? And what exactly did you mean by it all being rubbish? No, of course I don't have a boyfriend! Silly, all of the boys I know either treat me like one of their own, or are absolutely terrified of me.

Anyway, enough of my ranting. That's wonderful that you've been accepted Erik! And secretly, I've been wondering whether or not you were still on this Earth. You know we still could be wrong, but if we are not. Then that makes this connection even more astounding! You know what? To hell with how we are actually receiving these god damned letters! Point in fact is that we are, and I for one am glad of it.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	38. Written on the Nineteenth of May

How can you be so sure that my love will not be an illusion as well? Everything is an illusion. Here one moment, gone the next; seen in a bright shades then plunged into darkness. It all doesn't make sense, and yet. It's there so we follow whatever illusion we like the best.

Love is one of the best illusions ever created because everyone is drawn to like to moths to bright lights. Then again, lovers are an even better illusion because they are always hiding _something_ secret about themselves. The good loves, the only ones that ever really last to fairy tails are the ones that have no secrets. And I for one have too many of those secrets to ever create the illusion. I don't want to hide; I don't want to lie to get what I desire. If I have to do those things to create this Love, then I don't want anything to do with it….and yet I want everything to do with it.

Does that make sense?

Your Friend,

Marcy


	39. Written on the Twentieth of May

Christine? Why? Have you heard something or seen something? You more than likely will see her again, but then that's just me thinking out loud.

I have a question for you; hypothetical of course, but I need some feed back because I am considering tell my friend that I….I….well…you know. That made no sense, but you know what I mean….I hope.

Ok…if it was your friend for instance, who told you that they might like you as more than a friend, and you didn't feel that way about them, would you still want to be their friend even though they confessed their true feelings?

I know that's sounds odd, and I am freaking out right now. Which is something I never do…well for the most part anyway.

I have no idea why I'm asking this….but I thought It might help if I got some answers.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	40. Written on the TwentyThird of May

Must this be so ever loving confusing? I must sound like a total idiot right now, but I can't! I have these moments where I am so sure of myself and so sure that everything is going to work just right and then when the moment comes…I back out. I'm sorry I even mentioned it now. Forget I even said it.

Right, that behind me (for now and hopefully for a long time after) I can now get back to my normal (however normal that might even be) life. So, tell me; how are things over there? I need some good news!

Eighteen stories; yes eighteen that's how many I have planned and that's how many are in production. I think my head may just decided to fall off anytime now. I'm setting my own deadlines for them and I'm no where near where I want to be with them. And every time I stop writing one…two more storylines decide to jump into my already filled up brain. I swear one day I'm going to explode from all of this….

Your very chaotic Friend,

Marcy


	41. Written on the TwentyFourth of May

Wait a minute. What people, and what do they know? Sorry, if that was a bit blunt, but you just left me hanging there.

You were right; the ideas are coming to a…halt, no not a halt they've just slowed down. This is fine with me because if I had to handle another day like that I would have gone completely mad.

Well, keep me informed on what's going on over there! I'll be waiting for your next letter Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	42. Written on the TwentyFifth of May

You seem to be sounding awfully vague with me. All right it may just be me and I'm looking for a good excuse to start some excitement but when I get a one lined letter you have to know I'm going to start asking a few questions!

Besides that, you must know something, obviously because you've mentioned them and I don't even know who this them is! So, if or when you do find out something or anything tell me!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	43. Written on the TwentySeventh of May

That's odd, very odd. I hope they don't drag trouble straight through the door after them. But as it sounds, they only appear to be very strange.

One of my friends told me something once. 'When people want you to believe something they'll say anything to prove their point, even if they lie.'

If that made any sense, basically be careful Erik; Considering I don't know a thing about these people they may be lying to you, trying to prove false information or knowledge that they never possessed in the first place.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	44. Written on the First of June

No, you're right I can not blame you, but then again you can't blame me for sounding a bit concerned can you? After all I'm only going by what you are telling me, and in this case…it's not a lot.

What is it that is so important that these people may have the answer to? Or do you even know? And if you don't know that just makes this whole situation even more confusing.

Please keep me informed on this, I'll be awaiting your next letter Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	45. Written on the Second of June

Erik before I say anything else let me say one thing…calm down. Don't panic, don't feel scared, and don't feel lost; whatever this thing is please talk to me even if you don't know for certain.

What secret? How can you not know if you still know that there is a secret? Forgive if I sound to rash or confused it's just I only go by what you are telling me and I have nothing.

All I can say is, if there are answers (which there always are) you will find them. Please don't worry, and don't be scared; because then I will be to. Everything will work out in time, that's something I still have faith in…everything works out Erik, trust me on this one please.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	46. Written on the Third of June

I don't know what to say…honestly I am at a loss for the correct words. The choice to know this secret is entirely up to you, and the choice to 'move on' as I shall put it is also your decision. I don't want to keep you anywhere where you don't want to be.

I think we have been keeping each other sane; and you have become so important and so special to me I really don't think I could describe how much you mean to me…so, if it's me what holds you down from this world or the next, or whatever secrets you need to find then go and find them, there yours not mine.

I'll admit though, I'm finding it hard to imagine what will happen to us if we can no longer write to one another. It is scary, and I don't even want to think about it so I won't.

I want you to be happy Erik, please do what you think is right and what you think is best. Don't let anything hold you down, not even your fears. It's ok to be scared, it's ok to be afraid of the unknown, but one thing will be constant even when we can no longer connect like this. I will always and forever by your friend, nothing can change that.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	47. Written on the Fourth of June

Now that is strange, no mirrors? No cameras and nothing reflects? And once more everyone seems to like that. Or at least that's what I'm hearing; Erik, I remember you telling me that no one seemed to be bothered by you when you did not wear your mask, or at least Coreen. Do you think it might be….forgive if I take a flying leap into another bucket of questions and what ifs, but do you think that; you know; They are not bothered because you may not need the mask anymore?

If you really are a ghost of some sort, maybe it's possible that you don't need the mask anymore, after all there is nothing that reflects there so there is no way that you would be able to know for sure, but I'm thinking out loud and possibly sounding like a complete and utter babbling moron, but maybe…

Anyway, I think you should keep find the answers to whatever situation you are in. You can't just leave it here right now, not when things are really started to almost…well not almost, but some how starting to make a bit more sense. I have feeling that there is something about that place…how else are these letters getting to you?

Your Friend,

Marcy


	48. Written on the Fifth of June

All right so be it, no more questions. As for my life, not much from your regular chaos has happened. I started a new story, one that I hope to have published one day; it's long, complex, and full of the abstract ideas that I tend to rant about, but organized if you can imagine that.

My Mother is her usual annoying self; she left the house today because I got into an argument with her. Next think I know she's crashing down the steps ranting about how no one ever cares what she wants and then she left. She came in a few minutes to rant some more and then to pick on my Father. I'm surprised he still puts up with such foolishness from her…

Things are slowing down it seems; my workload just got a lot lighter thanks to the fact that school will be ending in a few more weeks and then I have a whole summer to write. Well, that's all the information I have for you Erik, I hope you find what you're looking for and don't go crazy on me…you're already crazy enough with out the extra help, and Thank God for it!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	49. Written on the evening of the Fifth of J...

If only you knew how much I wish it were possible that we could meet…it's almost frustrating in a way. I can't tell you how many times I've imagined a meeting between us…I swear I can reply it over and over again in my head until someone snaps me back into reality and even then it takes me a minute to realize 'Oh wait…we can't do that…'

It's actually been almost three months since I got your first letter; my God it feels like I've known you forever.

Anyway enough with the wishing and ranting….that's wonderful that you are composing again! I wish I could be able to hear it when you finish….ah; there I go again with the wishing…

You want to know what I look like? Well I guess I could try to explain…I have long straight brown hair that I usually wear up in a ponytail, and I have green eyes. I have pale-ish looking skin and I suppose I am a little short for my age, but that I am rapidly growing out of. There, have I planted an accurate enough image into your mind?

I should be going now…I hope to hear from you soon, Erik…

Your Friend,

Marcy


	50. Written on the night of the Fifth of Jun...

I'm not offended, actually quite the opposite I'm flattered you want to see me so much…if only there was a way…and if only….wait, never mind.

Next year? So what? I'll be a year older than I am now, not much will change. I mean, I'll still be me, same Marcy. And you'll still be you; see no worries!

And as for your piece, I'm sure it's wonderful; and I should hope it's nothing like you've ever used to create, why? Because it's new, it's different; every piece that you compose is nothing like you used to create, that doesn't make it bad It just makes it original…at least that's my ranting of advice.

All right, _now_ really I should be going, but I just want to keep writing…it's all I have of you, Erik.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	51. Written on the same night of the Fifth o...

I let it be Erik, I let it be. I'm so confused now; I don't think I ever really liked him…and I don't think he could have ever understood me so all is well that ends well I suppose.

And yet, something is amiss I do have feelings for…well here is where the confusing sinks in…something here, but not here, something real but not real, something a part of my reality and my fiction. And it is such a delicate situation and I dare not trend across it so I just keep my mouth shut and pray to God that I get a clear sign to finally say it, but if I did…I would lose so much, so much that I would ever care to lose. I know that even if I did say something things would never be the same…the connection a part of it would be destroyed and I just could not bare that Erik I couldn't.

Do you follow me Erik? Do you _follow_ me Erik?

Your…Friend,

Marcy


	52. Written on the Sixth of June

See, this is why I keep my mouth shut, and I should have just kept it so; because now I have to go through the humiliation of well…letting my emotions get in the way of my common logic.

Right, now I intend to find a brick wall…bash my head against it in the hopes that I may find some common sense in the process…but hey; at least I said something, instead of just letting it slide. My friends said that if you don't say anything at all you'll wonder all your life and drive yourself completely mad with all the what ifs, but we already knew that I was completely mad to begin with!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	53. Written on the Seventh of June

You want my opinion? Yes, I think you should go. You've wanted to know the secrets, you want to know the answers and if the answers aren't there then go after them. At least that's what I think anyway.

Besides, you have nothing to lose by following. And chances are you will find your answers, if they will give them to you.

So, go if you wish to and I hope you find the answers you have been looking for!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	54. Written on the Eighth of June

I'm sorry, but your letter literally cracked me up. For the longest time I couldn't stop laughing, my friends were beginning to think something was wrong with me.

Ah, well, I am glad that you have decided to leave. I just hope you figure out where it is that you need to go…and on top of that find out where the heck you are. It is quite disorienting to be traveling in a place you don't know trying to find a place you don't know either. Good Luck!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	55. Written on the Ninth of June

Oh, I understand that's what makes these letters so interesting.

Life right now…over here? Not so spectacular. You remember that boy I said, who…well…did those things to me? Well he had the god damn nerve to ask me again if I would spend more time with him if you know what I mean. I can't believe that! What kind of logic was he using if none at all?

Plus, he would not leave me alone…he kept trying to get a hold of me for over two weeks everyday he kept calling and calling sometimes twice in one day! Well enough was enough so I told him I don't want to see him again.

I was almost sorry, I thought maybe I was to harsh…no, no wait I'm not sorry for once I do not care how badly I hurt him…it can not compare to what he did to me.

Right have I thoroughly bored you now? Anyway, I hope that you get somewhere less…well wet! I shall be awaiting your next letter Erik!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	56. Written on the Tenth of June

I truly hate it when people lie…or twist other's words about. But I'm not getting into it so don't ask me about because I can not give you an answer simply because I was asked not to say anything more on the matter.

It seems a few people don't believe these letters…well I'm not rightly sure what to do about that. It's not like I can convince anyone at all, so I suppose you either believe or not either way It is not my business nor my place to say anything.

Ah, well other than that life goes on as ever it did here, summer is rapidly approaching and I can feel everyone's anxiety to the coming weeks.

Well…I think I have calmed down a bit. Anyway please try to keep in touch! I'll be waiting for your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	57. Written on the Twelve of June

Oh, don't worry I will, although still they might get a little…freaked out, but what can you do I suppose?

I have a question for you Erik; do you know exactly where you are going? I mean how can you tell which direction that those two men went? Unless, that is someone has told you where…then forget I even mentioned this.

I wouldn't worry about the ship much, Erik, if by chance there should be mirrors aboard don't bother with them; just ignore that they are there and go about with everything else.

Well, I should be going now. I shall be awaiting your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	58. Written on the Fourteenth of June

I'd like to see anyone try to dunk you in an ocean; the idea of it makes me laugh even. That, however, is beside the point. It seems your journey is going fairly well…it is going well right?

I'm still slightly amazed at how in the hell these letters are getting to you, seeing as your location is changing rather rapidly and there are no specifics as to who these letters are for…I suppose I should just get used to the fact that there are no answers to it…and that's what bothers me, I like having answers what can I say?

I hope things continue to go smoothly for you and I will be waiting for your response! Until then Erik…

Your Friend,

Marcy


	59. Written on the Sixteenth of June

Ah, I see, well that does make sense I suppose. Although, I do wonder why did your companion travel with you? Or perhaps you just happen to be going in the same direction and in that case just ignore what I previously said…and now I'm contradicting myself, wonderful.

I hope that bad weather doesn't last to long, you can never tell what could happen on the open ocean and the weather doesn't help in the least.

Nothing new has changed around here if you are wondering, but I did succeed getting into that choir class I auditioned for. I'll have to wait until next year to participate in the class…I can't wait.

I don't suppose there is much more to say. So until the next time you get a chance to write I wish you all the luck that I can for a safe voyage!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	60. Written on the Twentieth of June

Well, look at me, the Miss Procrastinator that I am, can't even remember to write a gods blessed letter let alone find the time to send it out. Ah the crazy hectic ness that is the start of summer.

I hope your trip is going well, found out anything new lately? I only ask because nothing has happened over here and I'm afraid that if nothing does I shall resort to bashing my head against the door of my room just in the pursuit of actually doing something.

It's sad really; there are no new books to read considering most are all following some strange and new formulaic format which makes my head hurt from the unoriginality. So I must resort to reading the classics; which may have been a better choice to begin with.

It goes the same with music it's all about business nowadays. No one is interested in how good the singer is as long as they have a mediocre voice that people could actually stand to listen to for more than five minutes then they are fine. That's not to say there aren't any good artists around; there are, they are just beginning to get harder and harder to find and it's sad.

I have no idea where this little mini rant came from, but I really do hope that one day people will find the creativity in the world again because as of right now that creative spark is slowly going out.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	61. Written on the Twenty Second of June

My school year's ended…and I'm left with no more work…I never knew I actually needed the work, but apparently I get rather bored with out it. Oddly enough though I still hate it when I actually do get work…and I've gone and confused myself again oh well…

Going back to your comment on Destiny, I've never thought of it as plastic like before…I guess now you could call it that since everything is sort of processed and factory styled.

Other than that, nothing interesting or new on this side of the spectrum besides a new writing notebook and some pens…because Gods know I needed the extra paper.

Ah, well, do write back as quickly as you possibly can! I hope things are running as smooth as can be expected! And I shall write back soon.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	62. Written on the Twenty Fifth of June

Well…that certainly sounds interesting, a hell of a lot interesting then what I have to do at least.

Currently, I'm sitting at my desk…in a dress outfit, with makeup…and my hair pulled back…why? Well, I have to go to a party for one of my family members, she's just graduated college.

I hate dresses, and of course we all know how much fun it is to go to a big social function full of people we don't even know. Sorry for the sarcasm, but dressing up annoys me to know possible end. No offense to my cousin of course, I know how important today is for her.

I'm going to have to go now, I suppose I'll have to flounce on out because God forbid you should be able to actually be mobile in these damned outfits…right, I hope things continue to go well for you! And I hope to hear from you soon!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	63. Written on the Tweny Sixth of June

I'm glad you find it so humorous; oh yes and it was a dark blue dress, thank God for that small favor, pink hurts my eyes; horrifying color that it is. And I would rather choose mobility over grace any day of the year.

I'm sorry things are so very boring over there, but I can vouch for you and say things may be just as god awful dull here as well. Considering I have nothing else to do for the next two months or so, my Mother has taken it upon herself to suffocate me with…shopping. Even the word makes me gag; she thinks I need to start getting involved with "womanly jobs" whatever that might mean. No offense to her efforts, but I'd rather be holed up in a bookstore all season…and no, I did not mean that sarcastically, I truly meant that.

Well, I sincerely hope you get off of that ship as soon as possible; tell me if anything else…you know…interesting happens.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	64. Written on the Twenty Seventh of June

So you've found something to read, eh? I couldn't imagine spending more than…five minutes without a book. It's like a drug, reading, there are so many kinds, so many styles; it's almost hard to keep up with them all.

Recently I've found myself reading a few of the more classic books; I just got The Hunchback of Notre Dame, it's quite complex and very descriptive, but very intriguing…and I could end up babbling about it for days…

I should let you know, I'm going to be away for four days or so, I wish I could take my notebooks with me, but my Mother has made it very clear that I'm not be writing while I'm on "vacation with my family" Maybe I'll sneak a few sheets of paper up…and some books…and maybe a few writing journals…ah hell I just take them all anyway…

I wish you all the best of luck for the rest of your journey and I hope your partner doesn't get into any kind of trouble! I'm going to miss getting your letters for these next few days!

Your Friend

Marcy


	65. Written on the First of July

So, I have finally returned! How are you? Has the boat docked finally? Are you off of that infernal ship? Tell me what's happened if anything at all. Right, I've only been gone for four days, but still a lot can happen in four whole days.

Not much has happened with me; I've had no new ideas, I'm dry, drained…nothing. Well at least for now; still it is rather boring being without one new thought for almost two weeks. That and having a Mother who is finally happy now that her daughter has stopped ranting about for the time being; funny how when I'm bored out of my head, _she's_ having the time of her life about it.

Anyway, that really isn't important now is it? Please, write back when you can! I shall be awaiting your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	66. Written on the Fifth of July

From what I'm hearing this journey of yours is getting stranger by the minute. Has your companion even told you his name at all? Well, I suppose that doesn't really matter, as long as you feel that everything is going all right than there is no reason to be doubting anything.

For the past few days, I should tell you, I've been getting the strange sense that I've been bothering you with these letters. I don't know why or how I even came to that conclusion, but yet I still do. You would tell me if you could no longer keep up with this correspondence wouldn't you?

I guess it is rather idiotic of me to even bring that up in the first place, but then again…I'm known for being and idiot.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	67. Written on the Seventh of July

Well, that is good to know, because….I would have continued to annoy you with these letters anyway.

Off of the subject matter, hiking is actually one of my favorite things to do; but depending on the terrain it can get awfully nasty sometimes. So, do you know how far away this temple place is, or are you flying blind as we say?

I apologize on the fact that this letter is so short, but I keep drifting in and out of paying attention to what I'm doing and daydreaming. I'll write back as soon as I'm more alert. Maybe it would help if I tried something new….like sleeping…right, I wish you luck on the rest of your journey and I will be awaiting your next letter!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	68. Written on the Tenth of July

One bad thing about the summer season, I'm hardly ever home, because I have no other obligations like I do during the rest of the year, there is no reason for me to be at home most of the day, therefore it is getting most frustrating for me because it is taking me to bloody long to send you my responses.

Anyway, how is your expedition coming along, any progress of any sorts? Do keep me informed, hearing from you is about all I have to keep from landing in an asylum; what with my family deciding to snatch away my reading materials once again.

Speaking of my family they have all left to go outside, I'm sure they'll start looking for me soon. Please write back as soon as you get the chance!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	69. Written on the Fourteenth of July

Sounds as if you are having yourself quite a time out there; I can only hope that things will improve, for your sake.

Not much has changed here, besides the fact my Mother has completely lost it and I seem to feel as if I have fallen into a modern day Jane Austin novel. Why? She is constantly suggesting to me that I wear skirts and dresses as it is so very hot out here. Someone for the love of God…shoot me now.

Wipe that smile of your face, it's nearly midnight and I've been trying to sneak write you this letter all day, but everyone seems to be turning up exactly at the wrong moments.

So until next we write, Erik, I remain your most sleep deprived friend,

Marcy


	70. Written on the Nineteenth of July

I hope he is not lying to you, but from how you have talked about him I can presume that may not be the most trustworthy of people. And for your sake, may you reach your destination soon.

Not much has changed over here…besides the fact that my birthday past two days back and you know what? I don't feel any less immature than I did those two days ago.

I apologize on the shortness of this letter, but as it is getting rather late I feel I should make this brief. I hope to hear back from you soon!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	71. Written on the TwentyEighth of July

I don't think you should believe anything anyone over there tells you, no matter how trustworthy they claim to be. How do you know you weren't tricked to begin with? Well, no matter, find yourself a way out of there and find it soon.

I doubt those people truly want to help you anyway. I'm worried, everything that you've been telling me, It just doesn't sound right at all. Find your information then leave…I can't seem to stress that enough.

Please, stay safe and I hope with all my heart you get out of there soon. Until then I shall be anxiously awaiting your next letter.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	72. Written on the Eleventh of August

First thing's first when faced with a crisis like this…make sure you arm yourself. Common logic, you need a weapon, doesn't have to be a good one, but then again you never know. I know you don't have one right now, find one then. Yes easier said than done I'm sure, but you'll need some type of weapon. If not now then defiantly later. As your journey does not seem to be growing much easier.

Considering it's been awhile since my last letter; where exactly are you now? Are you still penned up in that place? Or have you escaped, or better yet freed? Either way, once you are away from that place will you take my advice and leave your stupid guide? He's been lying to you the whole time and more than likely got you into this whole fiasco in the first place.

I could be wrong, and I hope that I am for your sack, but please be careful! I shall be waiting for your next letter anxiously. I hope all goes well…or better than it has!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	73. Written on the Third of September

Are you bad hurt? No scrap that, first things first. Get as far away as where ever you are now, and as far as I'm concerned the guide can die; that was probably cruel of me, but I don't care. He led down that way in the first place and got you into this trouble from the start!

I have no idea where you might be now…after all I haven't written to you in what has it been like, over two weeks? There is no excuse for that and I hope you can forgive the utter and complete absence, it's inexcusable. That may not be the point now; if your safe (I pray) don't go perusing these shadows anymore. It's not worth it….is it?

Your Friend,

Marcy


	74. Written on the Thirteenth of September

Many is the time when I wish things just never happened, never came to be, never occurred in the first place. But they do, and when they do sometimes you must weather it the whole way through. I understand, my friend; I just don't know how you are going to accomplish this obstacle.

What if they are gone, Erik, what if you can't find them? I've always known you could do anything! Above all people I've always believe that you could accomplish anything, but what if this time; this can not be accomplished. I hate being the bringer of bad tidings, but as your friend I feel I should tell you. I don't want to see you hurt if you can never find these answers…

I wish I could say everything will be fine in the end and then wish you the best of luck, but I would be lying if I told you that, and you know me Erik, I've never lied to you, ever and I don't think I could even if I tried. You've chosen a hard road to follow, but then again I suppose that's always been your way. I can't stop you, I know that. And I know that whatever I say you'll go just as well; but please listen to me!

So, if you go, I wish you luck; you know that, and I pray to whatever powers that be that you stay safe…and come out of this whole escapade unhurt…Erik please take my words to heart, please!

Your Friend,

Marcy


	75. Written on the Twenty Ninth of September

Don't say you forgive me for not writing for so long. I don't want to hear it, because it shall only make me feel worse. I want to know; where are you now? How are you now? Have you found any new clues? Anything?

And what did you mean by the clues left in the Opera House? What exactly is there…you were being awfully vague there, my friend.

I wish I could tell you that things here were fine…unfortunately I can't. I'm in the middle of a fire…not a minor one, mind you. A major one; and as of now, it shows not signs of slowing down…I'm not sure if I'm going to have to leave or not yet.

If I do end up leaving…I doubt that I shall be able to write back to you for months…I pray that that will not be the case. My good wishes go with you as always, my friend.

Your Friend,

Marcy


	76. Written on the Third of December

If you are not Erik, then what shall I call you, my friend? If you are nameless than to be sure I am gutless. Yes a gutless worm that runs from her problems and hides them in a neat little box where no one would ever look. I am ashamed of myself. It is because of my own lies that I stopped writing…I am not worthy to call you my friend. I should be nothing to you.

People are telling me this and that; things to confuse me, to make me think. My eyes sting when I see the last date on which I wrote to you. I abandoned you…I did, I feel it. I can not apologize, what for? So I can box up my issue again? I didn't even have the courage to tell those people otherwise…I went along with them. I am a coward a bloody coward.

The chances of you ever responding to this note are slim…as you probably think that I have left you for good. I thought I did a while back, I thought I good ignore the notes and the letters…I tried to and I don't know why, but I did! I can't any longer, I don't care what other people might say, it's driving me insane that I'm scared of my own words.

I am not your friend Erik…I am some mindless, freak who talks to herself in the dark. I am some blind fool who thinks she sees everything. I should have said something, and I didn't. I didn't, I kept my mouth shut. Why? I don't know.

Erik, if that is not who you are, let me call you by that name. Erik, it is the name I know you by the best. Not some Ghost, nor Phantom. Erik, because you are human like me and we feel…it's a terrible thing, but not always.

And this Human wishes she never backed down on her word.

Marcy


	77. Written on the Fifth of December

Surely those have to be the greatest words in the human language; 'I'll listen.' Unfortunately only few have said it to me and meant it. I'm not in trouble, nor in pain as you put it. I'm just tired. Tired of saying things that nobody understands, tired of writing things that make no sense. And tired of my family giving me weird looks because they're worried what I might be thinking about.

I'm sick and tired of being judged every damn day of my life. I'm tired of going to doctors so they can tell me everything I actually like about my personality and then prescribe me pills so I can fix it. I'm tired of keeping my mouth shut when I know I should say something. I'm just tired….I want to just close my eyes and dream away the rest of what might happen, but I can't, because that's what got me into this mess in the first place.

But, for ten minutes of my day I don't have to feel like that, because when I'm writing to you I know you are listening, and you don't judge me. You actually want me to talk to you, and that means so much. So don't you dare say that you are causing me hurt and damage, because it is completely the opposite.

So if I can go about my day, despite what everyone else says about me, I can say that at least one person actually cares; and sometimes that's all anyone needs, just one person who listens.

Marcy


	78. Written on the Second of January

You are going to laugh at me. I know it for a fact, because I have nothing to say. I feel like I just rammed my head into a metal pole and everything just went an ugly shade of black.

I can't think straight anymore…I just feel, everything at once. I'm being drowned out I can't hear myself talking anymore. Some of my work went missing the other day…along with all of my notebooks. I know who took them so it was pointless for me to find them, as they had been thrown out.

You know how much work there was in those notebooks? Nearly two years worth…it's gone. I can't duplicate those, it's just like they never existed. My Mother has done her job as a parent…she's shut me up. She doesn't know I'm writing this…it's the only thing I can get my head around right now.

I don't even want to look at my work anymore; it will only disappear like the rest of it. I just want…what's the point? What am I saying? It doesn't make any sense…all I hear are all of these words pouring into my head everyday and I want it to stop. I don't want to think anymore I just want to pull the switch and turn it off.

I don't want to hear anything, no yelling, no shouting and nobody telling me why I write what I do. I don't need to answer those…I don't need to answer anyone. I have no voice at all so I can't make a statement.

How am I even sure you're real? I don't know anymore! I can't judge anything…I can't believe in something because I'm sure they'd have the power to take it from me. Please let it be real….

Marcy


	79. Written on the Eighth of August

Behold the small, stubborn child come crawling back to a long lost friend. Can you believe that I was about to do something horrible? I suppose, however, that the deed has already been completed. I doubted myself, Erik. I did the unthinkable and I turned my back on you. I put you in the back of my mind where I thought I wouldn't have to continue believing in something unattainable. I was wrong Erik…so very, very wrong.

You're probably gone; lost to me, at least in this manner of strange communication. It is in the nature of people to realize their mistakes to late. Time has passed, to much time…and yet most has felt no more and no less than a rushing blur of people and color.

I'm remembering things, or am I remembering them? I'm catching fleeting images of what I think are dreams, but feel like memories. I feel as if I am supposed to recognize something important…and I feel something important around these images, but the meaning escapes me. Then of course there's the other explanation, I'm going insane. Which, is not a bad thing…considering the much more difficult alternatives.

But, I would like to ignore those things for now. Please tell me, where are you? How are you? Where have you gone? What has happened? Will you ever get this letter…? It is highly doubtable and I will be most surprised if I find a reply the next I check for one.

I realize I learned a lesson to late…a person can only go for so long ignoring the truth, whether or not the outcome is a real, tangible one. So, I've come to the conclusion, and damn any one else who should try to convince of the opposite. You are real…you are as real as you have been telling me you are and you are as real and important to me as I believe you are.

And what a strange tightrope walk this unusual friendship has been, or has it been a friendship? Has it merely been a freakish correspondence between to unknown letters passing through space? Will we remember any of this later? Will we be able to smile back on this foolish acquaintanceship and accept it for its brief, but amazingly comforting time? Do you even remember me now, now that it's been so horribly long? And can you ever forgive me for disappearing the way I did?

Marcy


	80. Written on the Tenth of August

Shock…yes; I suppose that would be the proper word to describe my feelings upon receiving your response; however I would be lying to you if I could merely pass it off as shock. Do the words maddening, outrageous and ridiculous ecstasy strike terror and fear into your heart?

God, what a wonder a simple letter can do! I nearly died of laughter upon finding your letter, and it was not from the context, it was merely from pure relief at hearing from you again. And as to your notion of this correspondence causing me pain, I remove such thoughts from this paper…I am snatching those horrendous ideas away and locking them up. Nothing could bring me more joy than this correspondence, as you call it.

And I am dispelling all talk of sadness or tragedy. I refuse to discuss any of those matters now…as they seem so very insignificant at this moment. Why should I talk of unhappy things when I can't think of a single one? I can only hope that there is nothing all together to tragic with you right now. From the sound of it you seem to be in a decent spot. Feel free to correct my assumption if I am wrong.

What shall I tell you? I suddenly find that my mind is quite blank. I had plans to retire to my bed, but once I found your letter those thoughts have quickly disappeared. Now, don't you tell me that I should sleep; I'd laugh in your face if I could see you. At any rate I'm laughing now, so we are even.

Ah, now I remember what it was I wanted to write. As I said before, I have been remembering things, they are either dreams or memories, but some have become clear to me. I know that they will mean nothing to you, but let me explain.

I see, in my mind's eye, a room…it is painted a crimson shade of red. There is something about this room, I know it is not decorated in the style of my time, but rather, it is decorated in the style of a 19th century room. Only I can not see the entire room, only a red cushioned chair and an ebony desk. There is a mirror attached to the desk and, I believe a vase and a hairbrush on the desk. Now I get to the point of this description…I sense, rather than feel, that there is a letter, unopened and sealed, somewhere in the room. It is either on the desk, but I can not yet picture it, or it lies somewhere else in the room and the rest of the room is blocked from my limited view.

That is not all; however, the letter was the important part as it was only after I remembered all of these things that I believe I chose to write to you again. I can also recall voices from beyond the room, and I can not tell if there is a hallway or another room beyond the doorway I'm sure is there. There is also music, the kind one would hear coming from a music box, only I don't see a music box and I've never heard the song before. Come to think of it…I don't actually _hear_ the song, but I know it's playing.

It might be nothing, just a dream I'm trying to remember, but lately I have been remembering it often. It sneaks up upon me when I least expect it and I remember something new and different about the room every time I think about it. I get the strangest of feelings whenever I picture this room. It is as if I am supposed to know this room, and at times I feel as if I recognize it…and then at others I pass if up for a dream. Can you now understand my previous confusion?

Well, at any rate…I thought I might share this strange dream with you, and there is still one thing that I am dying to ask you…What kind of a cat are you planning on getting?

Marcy


	81. Written on the TwentyFifth of August

You need not ever apologize to me; considering I took a much longer time to ever reply to your letter, I have no room to utter a word of complaint…not that I would either way.

As to that dream I mentioned in my last letter, I am still unsure of what it is about. For some reason the images have left my mind again, at least for now. And you give me too much credit for the music in that dream. I am not a composer; I can barely stumble my way through piano lessons! No, Erik, I am sure that the music was not of my own creation, rather some one else's piece that I happened to incorporate into my dream. The subconscious is well known for mixing and matching images and sounds together for no purpose at all…save to confuse the dreamer.

The voices, on the other hand, are completely strange to me. I do not recognize them at all, but they sound light, as if they were happily going about whatever work they need to do; which contrasts completely the entire tone of the room I see. The room isn't bright, but it isn't dark...there is more of a solemnity to the room. Perhaps it will become clear later, but for now it does not make sense in the least.

Lauren sounds like a wonderfully sweet creature, but then, animals have always liked you. That is a high compliment; for other animals see things that people usually overlook. However, it is one thing for an animal to like you, and quite another to ever get them to actually listen to you. I have completely given up on my dog, I'll tell her to go one way and she will deliberately go the other. Just like me to get a pet almost as sarcastic as I am.

Well, I will continue to inform you of any new developments in my little dream, if there are any at all. Please, you don't have to hurry yourself to send me a reply. For all of my impatience I am also patient; if that makes any ounce of sense. Take care, my friend…I will still be here whenever you chose to write again.

Marcy


	82. Written on the TwentySixth of September

How ironic; I'm not even sure which day it is, nor do I care at the moment. My immune system has decided to perform an acrobatic dance inside my brain and I believe I heard a few cymbals crashing around in my ears.

I can get very interesting when I'm sick, Erik. No, wait, I can be entertaining...I can be interesting and entertaining. Why? Because things come out of my mouth that I don't even know I'm saying that's why. So I'm responding to you in my current state because I'm tired of lying down staring at the ceiling. I'm going to start talking to that ceiling Erik if I don't do something soon...I think my legs are going to forget how to walk if I don't get up.

And as to the memories of mirrors and such, give them to me. I'll break them with a mallet so help me. And as for Luciana, even in my current state I could take her and redecorate my room with her blood and enjoy it. I'm sorry if that offends you Erik, but I most certainly would enjoy it. Don't ask me how I know her, but she was an ignorant, bratty, foolish girl. And that's my opinion and I'm handing it to you.

Somehow I have a feeling that all adolescent girls are as flighty and insubstantial as you say she was. It's really embarrassing, to be associated with personalities like that. Shallow, insensitive, self-centered...nits. I enjoy shaming them when the come around seeking a weak victim to taunt. Girls really can be the cruelest of human kind...and I prefer using that cruelty as a whiplash to those idiots.

I don't get it Erik, I just don't get it. Why do people mistreat others that might show a bit more intelligence than the rest? Why do people enjoy teasing people who can fight back, or who are sick? Is it a matter of why...or is that the because? Murderers are viewed as the villains of society, but who makes these people? Other people of course, through their acts is it any wonder why the murderer has retaliated the way he has? I'm not defended a murderers acts, as sometimes it is merely a case of an unstable mind, to which no one has thought to give help to. People themselves are the victims and the instigators in all sorts of heinous crimes.

I don't know why I'm talking about this now, but I am, there you have it. People say that I've made you up. People say that this entire friendship that I feel in my heart and in my very soul is just confusion. I disagree with them, in fact I've stopped listening entirely.

You once said you wished you could be loved for who you are...again don't ask me how I know that; it's to complicated, much to complicated...but, I do. What did you mean by that? Did you want to be loved for everything that makes up you? Fine then, I'll tell that I could and I do. Whether it's as a friend or...something. Don't ask me to deny any of it. I'm in no mood to deny anything; I'm feeling as stubborn as all Hell and about as fiery as Hell also. Were you aware that I absolutely do not _care_ what you look like? It was the last thing I noticed about you and by that time I had forgotten entirely. I may be just an insane and confused girl, but this insane and confused girl does not deny what she feels when she knows what she feels.

Didn't I tell you I could get interesting when I'm sick? People say that you're not real...I beg to differ. I know now. It's more like I'm wandering around a long hallway wearing a blindfold and unable to find you. It's more like we're standing on opposite sides of a brick wall. We know the other is there, we just can break the wall. Simple, yes? I'm content with that. I can live my life just like that.

To the point...thank you for humoring a crazy girl. _Never_ apologize to me, never hide what you feel, or think from me. I'm not afraid. I never saw a reason to be before, and I sure as Hell so no reason now. I am your friend, Erik...yes, that's it, your friend...

But don't think for a moment that if I had it in my power to trade places with Christine in your eyes that I wouldn't...because I would.

Marcy


	83. Written on the Twenty First of January

I wish then that you had warned me sooner of becoming to attached to the words on a page, my friend. It's much to late for me to change my mind, and it is virtually impossible to try and persuade me once I _have_ made up my mind. I am happy with my decision, Erik, I see no reason to go and change my decision when I am perfectly content with it; and I wish for you to accept my words.

Why did you think I started writing to you in the first place? I had already _made_ my decision long before these letters even began. I never expected you to find my letters...I never expected anyone to even know that I had gone and done something so utterly foolish. Well...what can I say? What's done is done and I am very glad I did it.

I never believed in fate. Now I find myself believing it more and more each day. I have been attached to you since I was a child; whether it was coincidence or something more does not concern me. What does is the why. More questions without answers, but I know that what I do is right.

People will call me insane for my decisions; they don't have to ever know, that's the beauty of it. People will talk and I say let them! It is a feeling, Erik...something that I can not explain but it is there and I feel it in the very bottom of my bones that certain things that have been shown to me were meant for my understanding.

I feel as if I've known you. It is confusing, but lately that is what it is. Every day I feel as if something new is added to this mysterious puzzle. There is never any sign of completing this puzzle, just more pieces being constantly pulled from a very large box. That's fine. If I am not supposed to have answers, then I can content myself with theories...which I have and they are ever changing.

It is frustrating to see certain things they do not hold any value at all in my life, but every time I get a hold on one of these questions...five more come up and I distract myself away once more.

I said that I now believe in fate...I never said that I liked the idea of it. I hate it. It is confusing because I am not sure what to do about it. I am not sure whether I am doing the right thing, but if it is Fate then...maybe I should just walk forward naturally and see what happens.

It is exciting in its own way, Erik...some times it is beyond frustrating, but at others it is wonderful. I could live on those wonderful moments. They are all I need.

Somehow I feel as if I have stumbled into something bigger than what can ever be explained and all that is need is someone with an imagination big enough to hold it...

Marcy


	84. Written on the same night

Another point for a strange day. How did you know that I was craving to hear from you so quickly? I was trying not to go and check to see if you had replied...and I find that you have with remarkable speed!

Besides the fact that you have now given me an excuse to stop studying my notes, I am wildly happy to hear from you. I must admit that the idea that I might have been a Ballet Rat is highly amusing to me. Considering that I can't dance to save my life, and if I was a ballet rat...you could bet your life that I would have been one of those that would have taken great pains to annoy you, Erik. But it does leave much to the imagination doesn't it?

Past lives are an answer that I find disturbing. Mainly because I could never be sure if I was accurate in my guess at who I was or where I was. Yet...one does take to wondering on certain days...

What was amusing to me was your description of passing one another's problems back and forth. Somehow that reminded me of a checker board. No, I don't have a point here...I just thought I'd say it...

I don't mind a treacherous path, Erik. I would actually welcome the adventure with open arms. However, it is to late for my mind to start thinking philosophically; if I start I will never sleep. Tell me how things are with you? Has anything new or strange occurred? Or has everything been generally the same?

Not much as happened with me, but I am currently buried under a mound of papers, but never mind that. I brought a snorkel along with me so I am not suffocating. Not to mention I was just looking at a bunch of your past letters to me. I want to say that we have been writing to one another for about two years and a half...or maybe it is closer to three. I can not count right now.

Ah, I should sleep...I should...therefore I am going to force myself into my bed. I am sorry to cut this letter short, Erik...and I will try and write back as soon as I find myself able to do so.

Good night, my friend!

Marcy


	85. Written on the Eighteenth of April

I find it odd how I remember to pull out these letters when I least expect it of myself. Yet, somehow I am at my most relaxed when I do glance at past letters. The past is so much easier to view than possible futures, and mine can either end up everywhere or nowhere at all at this point in time so I am glad for the break from general thinking at all.

It's funny how you are the one thing that seems to remain constant in whatever I do...and you are about as constant as papers blown about in the wind. Ah, well...I hope I find you well, my friend...it has been a while...a long while.

I might as well get to the point. I want to thank you for what you have been giving me these past few years...my god it's been years. I know that you are not Erik, and whoever you are to have kept my mind safe from ever knowing anything I have to thank you with every fiber of my soul. I owe you a great deal for this strange friendship.

I find that these letters have given me hope when I have found myself without any left to spare, and made my laugh when I most needed it. They have also made me think. Wondrous and strange thoughts and it is all thanks to you. Who are you? Why have you humored my lunatic letters for so long? Did you find them a source of amusement? I don't understand why?

I have been debating whether or not to ever write this letter, a letter to break this connection I have treasured for so long, but I find myself needing to know more than ever who is really behind this. I must know this person for I need to thank you.

The letters that once gave me hope are causing me great confusion now. When I first saw your first response to my first letter I literally felt my spine grow cold. At first I was angry, I was hurting when I wrote that letter and I thought you were mocking me, so I wrote again...and you answered me...and I wrote again...and I realized that you had no malicious intent and I was almost blown away by the cloak of magic you created for me. It was peaceful and I was glad for it, but I know all along that one day I would write this letter asking to know who you are.

I do not want this to end our connection forever. Even though I do not truly know you...you; however, have met me...in a more bare situation than I have ever, ever put myself in. It is enough for me to hopefully call you a friend. What you think of me does not matter.

This is the hardest letter I have ever written, for it ends something that I will always remember as the most remarkable experience of my life. So please, tell me who you are. And now I grow ridiculous and give you a means by which to contact me...my Internet address, no doubt it is on my page, but I give it out again...for I hope that you will still choose to speak with me...I would like that very much if you still wished to speak with me...however this site does not let me give you address...so I can only hope that you find it on my page

Do not ask about that name...do not...not only is humiliating to my spelling skills it just looks ridiculous...and also out of place in this letter.

Answer this letter, it is the most important one that you shall ever receive. My friend, I thank you more than you will ever know...and I do still remain.

Your Friend,

Marcy


End file.
